Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Last night I was singing “Six Little Ducks” to The Mayor while he intently drank a sippy cup.

(Horror of horrors! Milk at bedtime! All his teeth are going to fall out and he’ll never grow adult teeth and he’ll blow entire paychecks on Fix-o-dent! I know, I know – horrid, bad parenting!!)

All of a sudden The Mayor pulled his cup out of his mouth to knowingly inform me that:

“Ducks don’t have hands.”

Blink. Stare. Blink. “That’s right. They don’t.”

Then he demanded that we sing “Happy Birthday to Mia” about 150 times.

We went to Mia and her twin brother Jake’s birthday party last weekend. The Mayor spent most of the party nude in the hot tub playing a fishing game with Mia and her mom. I think there’s a little Mia crush action going on because he won’t sing happy birthday to Jake. In fact, he’s all, “Jake who? There was a kid named Jake at the party?”

(Way before me if you count the fact that he gives Rooster Girl a bottle when she wakes in the middle of the night. Since I did all the night nursing for six months he claims it’s his turn. Hallelujah and Amen, my husband!)

K gets up (at the butt crack of dawn).

He gives The Mayor a cup.

He makes breakfast for the entire family.

(He mighty good husband, uh-huh!)

When breakfast is ready, he sends The Mayor in to wake me.

The Mayor jiggles the faulty door knob until the door finally opens. Then he rests his little chin on the mattress near my face and says,

“Coffee ready…… You wake up?”

Instead of my usual morning whine, I am plastered over with a huge morning smile.

Little poo kernels floated all willy nilly and we performed the ‘super fast tub extraction ballet part deux.’

I have to acknowledge that this is the second time this has happened and that BOTH times K has been the one to scrub the tub, all the tub toys and the duck and fish bath mat things to remove all poo traces.

I am grateful AND ashamed. His whole personality shines a spotlight on the ways I can be lazy.

I did clean up the juice glass that shattered into a million pieces. I’m not TOTALLY useless. Clearly I am wholly poo-useless. Pooseless.